Friday, June 4, 2010
Sewing on Patches
Flickr photo by mollydot creative commons
Hey friends. I'm writing you from my daddy's office in my parents' house, which is a little freaky because as I type, fifth grade Becky (complete with stop sign glasses and crocheted bicentennial vest) is staring at me. I shall not be wigged out. I shall not be deterred.
So where were we...
Sam and I are taking a mother son get-away for the weekend to celebrate the end of the school year and to soak up the kind of heavy duty loving that only grandparents can give!
We had a great drive home to Raleigh yesterday. Sam set up his IPod to play all sorts of old people (Elton John, Billy Joel, and Michael Jackson) plus a young favorite of both of ours, Ingrid Michaelson. You probably know Ingrid. She's a fabulous entertainer (watch this after you finish reading this post) and I'm still spanking my own hiney because she came this spring to The Handlebar, our local place for live music, and I couldn't get my act together to simply buy the tickets and show up! I tell you, I drive myself crazy sometimes.
So anyway, you may know the song she's most famous for. It's this one.
Sam and I sang it straight through twice in the car. LOUDLY. (Actually I sang loudly and he joined in every now and then, when nobody was in the lane beside us.) After it was over, Sam asked if we could pretty please listen to a different song.
"Just one more time. Okay?" I begged, and he rolled his eyes and laughed. Then he patted me on the head and pushed play.
I couldn't help it. I just love those lyrics:
If you are chilly, here take my sweater.
Your head is aching, I'll make it better.
Cause I love the way you call me baby.
And you take me the way I am.
Isn't that the best kind of love, a love that takes us the way we are, with all our quirks and weirdness? Ingrid loves whoever it is back, because really, how could she not?
Whenever I hear a song that touches me or read a novel that stuns me with its beauty and truth, I know I need to take a closer look. I have this idea that when a story or a song or a movie pulls on my heartstrings, that means that it's resonating with something ancient and holy within me. It's almost like our souls are embedded homing devices, set up to detect the qualities of God's nature and passion in our world (His truth and beauty, pain and sacrifice,) and draw us back to their ultimate source: a God who loves us relentlessly.
Does this make sense to you, or do you think I've been staring into the sun too long?
So when she sings
I'd buy you Rogaine when you start losing all your hair
Sew on patches to all you tear
I hear it and I sometimes think of a child wanting to return the favor to a God who patches us up, time and time again.
You know what I mean. The Bible (and probably your life too) is full of those stories. I think of God calling out Adam and an Eve, right after they'd disobeyed Him with the fruit and were hiding in the bushes, wondering what to do next. God had said that if they ate of that tree, they'd die the same day. But would they indeed have to die? No, this God couldn't bring Himself to follow through, killing off all humankind. Instead God loved them, even in their shame. And not only that, but before God ushered them out of the garden, He sewed them clothes to wear, to comfort those frightened, naked jaybirds.
He sewed on patches, even though they tore the whole thing up.
If that's not superhuman love, (or superior-to-human love :) I'd like to know what is!
Have a terrific weekend, friends! I hope it's full of loud, happy singing.
But before you go, I'd love to hear what has moved you lately.
And do you think my theory holds? Does the art that touches your heart have anything to do with God?